


Do You Remember The Colour Of His Eyes?

by MelanieVimpula



Series: His Eyes [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: But not ready to let go., Dave's still 18 years old., Dubious Consent, M/M, Minor blowjob, Oh Dave sweetheart that's not going to work..., Psychological Porn, Psychological Trauma, Reverse cowgirl position, Sadstuck, Stridercest - Freeform, Unhealthy Relationships, What If -scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:16:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelanieVimpula/pseuds/MelanieVimpula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dub-con. Continuing the unhealthy relationship in the Strider household from Dave's point of view.<br/>Bro is bored and Dave knows just a blowjob can't satisfy him anymore. He never wanted this day to come. It's too soon.</p>
<p>Loosely a second part for http://archiveofourown.org/works/729769<br/>I was asked on dA to write a second part, so I did. Kinda like an epilogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Remember The Colour Of His Eyes?

**Author's Note:**

> The first one is "Don't Look Him In The Eye", this takes place a bit later.  
> Still I must say that I don't portray their relationship like this in my head, I just wanted to test this setting and how it works.  
>  Brace yourselves for Dave's thoughts, he doesn't really like the situation at all.  
> Should I warn of sadstuckiness too?

He has been looking at you. More than usual. It makes chills run up your spine, the look is the same predatory look he had before you sucked him off for the very first time. And you are scared. By the gods of logic, that can mean only one thing; it's not enough anymore. He's not satisfied. He's bored. And he wants something more from you. You've feared for this day to come and now it's here, right before your fucking eyes. It can see your fear, even through the darkened glass with a mirroring surface, it can glare right through your eyes and wrap around your neck, slowly choking you with this agonizing anticipation. No matter how far back behind you go, no matter how small you curl in the corner of your brain it can see you crystal clear. You don't like this at all.

And when you feel the breeze hitting the hair on the back of your head and his hands on your sides, you're not okay. His hands slip under your shirt and you let him. You don't make a sound when his lips press on your neck and he sucks on it. You stand there frozen, unable to do anything. Moving any muscle would break your poker and by that you would shatter too. You can distantly feel the hands roaming your upper body. _But is the body really yours?_ Maybe it's not. Maybe that isn't relevant at all... He whispers in your ear.  
-”Sorry. Dave, I'm really sorry...” He pulls you closer to himself, hands slipping lower, tracing along your hipbones. Feeling his boner against your lower back makes you to gasp inwardly. He continues whispering you how sorry he is and you let him. You don't think he's sorry at all. At least not in the way you'd want it. He's sorry of what his own feelings make him do, how he breaks himself in the process, not of what he's doing to you and your head. You're pretty sure he just thinks about himself. And you think of him too. His hand clutches your hair, turning your head to the side and slightly up. He's kissing you once again and even after so many times you don't really know what you're supposed to do. You're shaking when his tongue slips past your parted teeth. You're still not used to this, are you even supposed to? His lips press harder against yours, maybe a bit too hard because you can taste blood. Whose lip has been split, you wonder? You can feel nothing. After a while he pulls away and lets go of your hair. You feel dizzy already and the pit of your stomach is much heavier than you can bare. You've already lost yourself and there seems to be just an empty husk, a puppet on your brother's arms.

_But you are a person._ ...You don't want to be, not right now. It hurts too much.

Maybe you just have to clench your teeth and take it like a good bitch? You're sure you can. You know exactly how big Bro is, so there's a chance he might fit in you. But the more you think of it, the more you're convinced that you don't want to. This time you voice your opinion. As his hands slip down to your belt, pulling it open, you do it. You whisper “no”. Bro stops, as if hesitating. You don't breathe. His hands move again, now opening the button of your pants. You can feel his boner pressing more demandingly, clearly throbbing hard against your lower back and you say it again, this time louder.  
-”No. Stop it.” You can't move because if you do, you will cry. And that's the last thing you want to do in front of Bro. He seems confused, maybe conflicted even. You make the message clearer.  
-”Back off.” You grunt, the lump in your throat making it sound choked and vulnerable.  
Then he's gone. No hands on you, no more apologies, you're alone.

It takes a while for you to register that he's really gone and a few more that you can move again. You're suddenly back at the right place behind your eyes and you're scared. What now? You look around, maybe a bit too frantically, but right now you don't care what you might look like. You can't see him anywhere. Your skin still tingles from the places he touched you and it makes you sick. The old nervousness starts to lift it's ugly head from the depths of your consciousness again, shooting straight through your spine; would Bro just give it up like that? Or is he somewhere creeping, just waiting for a moment to take you by surprise and by force. Your muscles are stiff and cramped, your whole being is being coated with flinching fear and your throat is being filled with tears, not a single one can slip out. You warily start to walk around the apartment, checking all the places. The kitchen is empty and so is the living room. The TV is still on, it has been the whole time. You check the corridor again, sighing softly, almost relieved; the door to Bro's room is closed. It's always a bit open when he's not in there. Either this is a trick to make you to let your defense down or he really went in his room and intends to stay there. Not before you've gotten back to the safety of your own room you can breathe out. Now the door is locked and you can try to think. ...Not that it would stop Bro if he really wanted to come in. He can kick the whole door off it's hinges. You've seen him do it. You try not to think of that, but rather the matter on hands; you said no and it's killing you. You fucked everything up. You're sure you're gonna wake up in the middle of the night just to find yourself under him, pinned down and unable to fight. If you would have said yes, it wouldn't be so bad. He wouldn't force you. The more you think of what's gonna happen, the more anxious you feel. The breath hitches in your throat and your palms sweat, fingers twitch when you forget to squeeze them in fists. You spend the rest of the day under the sheets in the far end of your mattress worrying about the night and tomorrow.

You don't see Bro around for the next few days. Not a glimpse. It's almost like he's not there at all, but the moving items tell you otherwise. He's just doing his ninja shit and avoiding you. Even though it should be other way around, _you_ should be running from _him_! You're pretty conflicted of that, but on the other hand you don't feel like you're in danger anymore. ...You kinda miss seeing him though. You don't care for sucking his dick, but you're kinda worried about him himself. Is he guilty or is he just punishing you? The lack of knowing is killing you. Just what he thinks he can achieve with this? You don't know at all. But you do know how stubborn he can be, so this means that you have to make the move if you want to change this situation. But how to deal with this kind of situation with your own older brother? But... ...It's not like he's your Bro now, he's someone else. You know well what has to be done to make your Bro come back. And you know perfectly well it's your job to fix him. Determination and responsibility. So on the fourth night when your flinchiness has worn off and you can think straight, you're gonna do it. Preparing is easy, you've been practicing that. And when your fingers dive in without effort and your breath is nothing but ragged gasping you know you're ready. You open your door slowly and step in the corridor, wearing only a long shirt. Even your shades are left in your room and with that, all your dignity. You don't need that. Your legs tremble and your body feels heavy, kinda out of place if you say. These are the longest three steps you've ever travelled. And when your hand curls into a fist to knock on his door, you're not there. Few taps of your knuckles against the wooden surface and you grip the handle, opening the door. Bro lies on his bed, reading something. It seems like an advanced sewing guide to making plush puppets. He seems surprised and puts the book down, movements jerky. You can see his hair is not styled at all, almost casually messy and his bangs droop on his face. Yes, it would be casual if you didn't know why he hasn't done anything to his hair. His cap is somewhere too but the trademark shades and gloves are still on. Bro doesn't have a chance to say anything before you've flashstepped right next to him and climbed on his lap. You pull his shades off but don't look in his eyes. You can't.

This is probably the first time you've kissed him. It feels distantly uncomfortable and you don't know what to do, but mirroring Bro's actions from all the earlier times seems to work. Your teeth clank together, but there's something in between. You hope it's his lip and that it hurts. He draws in a sharp breath when you push your tongue in his mouth. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull him closer, the kiss feels clumsy but you can see it has had effects; Bro breathes a little heavier and you can feel something poking your ass. His hands creep up your hips and this time you let him. He can't feel you up much longer, you're quick to pull away and slide back between his legs. He looks slightly surprised, but can't blame him; when have you ever taken control? You open his belt with few swift moves, you're so used to your fingers trembling it doesn't even affect it. You can feel the certain pride at knowing you open belts much swifter than your Bro does. You slip your fingers under the elastic of his boxers and tug them down just enough to release his hard cock. You have your mouth on it in no time. The familiar salty taste fills your mouth. You keep your hands on his thighs, keeping them still while downing his cock in your throat. It has become easier over time. It's almost sad. You take him inch by inch in your mouth, enjoying the fact his hands clutch the sheets and his breathing is far beyond the reach of his poker. This is what you're good at. But this isn't just for a blowjob, so when you feel you've slicked him up enough with your drool you pull back. He lets out a faint whine, almost too faint to be heard, but you do. It's a mix of guilt and want, maybe a thin layer of surprise. You just know he's pondering 'are you really going to do it' in his mind and your answer is yes. With a little effort you turn around, bringing yourself to a good angle in his lap. You really don't wanna see his face while you do this, or rather, _you don't want him to see yours._

You reach for his cock between your legs, fingers almost slipping from the haphazard grip. Though the spit's drying fast on the heated flesh, so better hurry. Bro grips your ankles at this point, guess he doesn't know any better place to hold you. _And what does he want to hold you for? So you wouldn't stop, so you wouldn't escape?_ You quickly start to position him on your entrance, slowly trying to lower yourself on him. The shaking won't stop. Bro breathes in a deep and irregular pace which pauses every time you're trying to push him in. You remind yourself of how important it's to relax and you try, you really try! He's big, you're scared and shaken, but you've gone too far to back off. Where all that mental prepping went? You're glad you're not facing him because that pricking in the corners of your eyes is no good. Frustration fills your cranium to the brim and you decide to stop whining in your mind and just get on with it. Just a one final push and you can feel Bro's cock filling you up, sliding deep inside. It ends up being a much rougher way than you'd like, but you still muffle any sounds of displeasure. You hope Bro didn't hear it. Or at least you think he didn't, his own groan was far louder than yours. Just when was the last time he openly moaned in any way? You don't quite remember. His grip of your ankles tightens and loosens a few times in a row, almost like you're something fragile he fears of hurting and also wants to keep you there. It makes you sick to the bones. He gives you plenty of time to adjust to him. It's been a while you've had anything inside you, minus a few tests out of curiosity with some of your past lays. Even with that you've never quite got the hang of being the receiving end. Though, looking at the situation, you're the dominant one even this way. You take a deep breath and lift yourself up a bit before sitting back down. It pricks a little but you're sure you'll get used to it. You prop your hands on his thighs for some kind of leverage and do it again. Bro lets out more partially muffled groans, by the sounds of him you assume he's biting his lip. He does that. You've seen it a few times. Because sometimes your eyes wander a bit too high but never higher than his lips. The feeling of his cock being too big fades soon and you can move more freely, which basically means that you can ride him faster which equals getting out of the situation sooner. It seems like a flawless plan. And you do follow it.

You think your desperation is showing. He can't be mistaken of the sudden change of pace. You ride him like your life depends on it, slamming yourself down so hard you think you're bruising yourself soon. And you don't bruise easily. Bro doesn't sound like he's holding back any moans now and he rocks his hips against you lightly. He still feels tentative. You can feel it from his hands, which still keep their shying grip of your ankles. You know his fingertips itch to hold from somewhere else. You don't feel his palms through his leather gloves but the body heat seeping through tells they are sweaty and twitchy. He whispers curses under his breath, his voice as low as ever but cracking at some syllables. You're trembling and sticky with sweat but you can't stop, not before he comes. You hope that won't take too long. And you know you're gonna be so sore afterwards. Both physically and mentally. And that's your own goddamn fault, so you're gonna take it like a man. The muscles on your thighs are getting tired already of the rough pace, but that doesn't stop you from lifting your hips and slamming them down his length. Your panting is dragged and you're choking on it, you feel like you're drowning inside your head. But you still keep going because Bro feels like he doesn't hold back that much anymore, his hips follow to meet yours in the perfect rhythm. Music flows thick in his blood, you think, and that makes him an excellent DJ. Maybe when you're done with dragging your Bro back from the urges suffocating him you can mix sick beats together again? _Yes, hold onto that thought._ And that's what you do. _Keep thinking of the happy thoughts and it'll be over soon._

Even though you feel quite misplaced in your body, your hands tell that Bro's muscles have been tensing gradually and so do his grips of your ankles. He's close, you can tell. One hoarse moan and his hands are on your hips, holding you down and keeping himself deep inside. He's twitching and you can already feel the thick liquid filling you from inside. Now you can let out the real relieved sigh. Bro's panting heavily. His hands relax and continue their way. It's almost a hug, or something like a hug when his arms wrap around your hips and his face presses against your back. You can feel that his cheeks are burning hot, almost hotter than his breath hitting against you. Chills run up your spine and you slowly undo his arms, trying to slip off him. He winces slightly and lets go. When you get him out of you you're choking on your sobs. You quickly feel your face and it's wet. This time nothing stops the tears from pouring out, you've hit the limit. And by judging how wet your cheeks are you might have been crying the whole time. Now Bro can see. And you don't want him to see. _Please don't look._ Bro shifts supposedly on his knees and reaches out for you. You flinch and instinctively turn to look at him.   
Then you see them.

Wide open and bright orange, his eyes. You're paralyzed.  
You can see far too clearly what he's feeling. His face is layered with crippling worry and hurt, drenched in guilt and there's that one frightened glint stark against the orange surface. You didn't want to see this. Because now you're just crying harder. One second of hesistation is enough for him and he has already pulled you in a tight hug. You can feel his hand on the back of your head, fingers gently combing their way into your hair. He's shaking too, not as bad as you, but still. Your knees fail to support you so you fall full weight on his arms and they don't give in. You're not falling, he's keeping you up. Between the choked sobs you manage to ask:  
-”You happy now? You got what you wanted.” Your voice quivers far too much for your taste but you just know that's a straight hit to his heart. He holds you tighter and basically averts the question.  
-”I'm sorry Dave... Really, really sorry. Why did you even do this?” You swallow, too exhausted to fight the hug so you keep leaning in it. The stickiness between your legs is making you nauseous, a shower would be great. A deep breath and your voice is clear enough for an answer.

-”'Cause you wanted to. So, are you happy? Or was it in vain?”  
Silence.  
-”Was it in vain, Bro?”

_The look he gave you then will haunt you for years.  
And even after so much time you will remember the colour of his eyes as vividly as ever._

_They were orange._


End file.
